, ,

(Señor Coelho will excuse me
for borrowing his phrase.)
I only disturbed
the glass-bubble sphere of your reality
to satisfy a harmless, trivial curiosity:
I wanted to see if your conversation
can match up to the depth
at which your poetry penetrates me
but now I’m trapped
in this snow globe of miracles
spinning around me
and thinking of you
has become a habit
I want to be free
but I don’t, really